“You don’t know where the parents are?”
He shook his head. “I don’t even know who they are.”
“Then why do you have the babies?”
For answer, he handed her a note and she read it. “They’re abandoned?” She pulled each baby close as waves of shock shuddered through her. Not yet nine months old and left to survive on their own. It was beyond comprehension.
He explained how he’d found them in the pie tent.
“I must find their mother before she disappears.” He leaned forward as if to put Eli back in the cart but Eli clung to him, sobbing his protest. Bo looked at Louisa, his eyes wide with appeal, the silvery color darkened with concern for these little ones. “I need to go but how are you going to manage?”
She wondered the same thing. But she would not let him think she couldn’t do it. “I’ll be okay. Put Eli down. I’ll take care of them.” Although she hated the idea, she would have to let two of them cry while she took care of the third.
Bo backed toward the door. He seemed to remember he wore his hat indoors and snatched it off.
She deemed Theo to be the most miserable baby and put Jasper into the cart so she could deal with Theo. He rubbed his ears and rolled his head back and forth. Earache. She could offer comfort measures for that. She realized Bo remained at the door and looked at him.
“I meant to come see you earlier.” Bo rubbed at his ear much like Theo did. Did he have an earache, as well?
“For what reason?”
“To ask you to reconsider and attend the fair. Perhaps you’re not aware of all the needs, but the money we raise is to provide funds for the Lone Star Cowboy League. I’m sure your father has seen how badly many of the people around here need help.”
Of course he had. She had, as well. The desperation of so many people pulled at her heart. Like the poor mother of these babies. He continued before she could think how to answer his assumption. “Perhaps it’s working out for the best that you weren’t planning to go. At least you won’t mind if I leave the babies with you until I locate the mother.”
She would have liked to refute him but the babies needed her attention and he needed to find their mother. “Things have a way of working out, don’t they?” She waved a hand to shoo him away. “You run along now. We’ll be fine.”
The door closed behind him and she sprang into action. Warm oil for Theo’s ears. Cool sponging for all three babies. A drink of water. Thankfully they drank well from a cup. A smile encircled her heart as she tended the babies. They were adorable...three look-alikes...tousled brown hair and brown eyes that followed her every move. She bent over each little boy and kissed the top of each head. Hopefully their mother would be found soon.
She picked up Eli and held him close, swaying and singing to him. The other two watched and listened, seeming to enjoy her sad little tune.
* * *
Bo stood stock-still in the middle of the street. She’d waved him away, dismissed him like he was a nuisance. It felt strangely unusual. Mostly the young ladies flocked after him, willingly paid for the privilege of a dance with him. Mothers vied for him to share a meal with their families so he could admire their marriageable-aged daughter. He was not interested in marriage, but to have someone turn down every opportunity to have his attention did tweak his interest. He shook his head, unable to decide if he should be offended or relieved.
He rubbed his chin. The baby’s hair had tickled him right there. Tender feelings had rushed to the top of his heart. A wee one in his arms stirred up a longing as deep as forever...a longing for a child and family of his own.
He shook his head to drive away the errant idea and silently renewed his vow. He would never have children. They deserved better than he could promise them. A shudder snaked across his shoulders at the fear, uncertainty and loathing that came with remembering his father. God, help me be true to my decision. No one deserves to endure what Brandon and I did.
There was one certain way to ensure that.
He would not marry.
More used to using the four feet of a horse to cover distance in a hurry than his own two, he broke into an awkward run and returned to the fairgrounds. The position of the sun informed him little time remained before he must judge the pies and even less time to find the missing mother.
He slowed measurably when he reached the grounds. The gates wouldn’t open for another hour and yet people crowded the area. Satisfaction warmed his heart. If everyone supported the fair like this, they would make a good deal of money. Enough? Only time would tell. What difference would it make if Louisa did not attend? She was but one woman. The price of one admission.
Yet it rankled that she showed so little interest in the affairs of the community.
He saw the sheriff, Jeb Fuller, just past the gate and called to him. Jeb needed to be notified about the babies and could help look for the mother.
Jeb jogged over and bent close to hear Bo’s story. “That’s sad. I’ll begin a search, but with people from all over the county, it will be difficult to find one woman, especially as you have no idea what she looks like.” He moved away slowly, pausing to look carefully at and speak to each woman he passed, clearly asking about the triplets. When they shook their heads, he moved on.
Bo continued on his way to the pie tent. He saw a familiar figure to his right and veered that direction. “Brandon,” he called to his twin. His look-alike waved and waited for Bo to join him.
“I thought you’d be judging the pies,” Brandon said.
“I’m on my way there now. But first...” He again related the story of the triplets. “If we can find the mother before she disappears, we can help her look after the babies.”
“I’ll start asking around. Where are they now?”
“At the doctor’s. His daughter is taking care of them.”
“Good. She seems a capable, no-nonsense person.”
“She refused to pay to dance with me.”
Brandon blinked. “I never thought you’d have to pay someone to dance with you.”
Laughing at his brother’s misunderstanding, he explained his idea for raising more money. “But Miss Clark refused to take part.”
Brandon’s eyes flashed amusement. “Sounds like someone’s pride is hurt.” He gave Bo a playful punch on his shoulder. “You’ll get over it.”
Bo grabbed his arm in fake pain. “Ma told you not to hit me.”
The two laughed at the memory of their childhood then parted ways—Brandon to look for a missing mother and Bo to the pie tent.
The two other judges waited impatiently. The church pianist, Constance Hickey, her red hair pulled back so tightly into her bun that her eyes could barely blink, had volunteered for the job. Except volunteered was too mild a word. She insisted that she knew pies like no one else and no contest would be fairly judged without her help. Standing beside her was banker George Henley, who had put up a cash prize for the winner.
One by one, they circled the entries, savoring each sample and rating it according to a complicated system Mrs. Hickey had come up with. Bo forced himself to concentrate on the task. Too many things vied for his thoughts—wondering how Louisa was managing with the babies, hoping that Brandon or Jeb found the missing mother, and overall the sad-happy memories of his mother, who made a pie for the three of them every time Father was away...an occurrence that happened far too seldom.
They narrowed the entries down to six possibilities. Both George and Bo made up their minds but Mrs. Hickey insisted the selection couldn’t be rushed.